Adrift In Oceans Of Madness
by letmefallasleep
Summary: First WD fic. One-shot about the conversation Daryl has with Merle while he's hallucinating, and what's going through his mind. Rated for mentions of physical abuse, and language. "That was the thing about Merle. He was more than willin' to beat me into the ground, either with his jack-hammer sized fists, or the stupid stuff he says. But don't nobody else do it."


A/N: Alright... so my first Walking Dead fic, although I highly doubt it will be my last. Just discovered this show yesterday, and already caught up... Granted, didn't sleep too well last night after watching the creepy zombie show for eight hours straight, but... Hell, who needs sleep, right? Anyways, short little one shot about what was going through Daryl's mind during his hallucination with Merle.

Warnings: Language, mentions of past child abuse, brief, tiny sentence of implied sexual abuse.

Disclaimer: I don't own Walking Dead, or any of the characters. I definitely don't own Daryl Dixon or Norman Reedus... If I did, I wouldn't have to waste my time writing fanfiction about him. : )

* * *

I know this ain't real. Merle ain't real. Merle's gone. Dead and gone. Even if he ain't dead, he ain't here. But I gotta admit… Not-real-Merle's got some good points. Hell, even _sounds_ like the real Merle.

That wise crack about the little girl for instance.

Merle knows I ain't never been with a woman. Used to tease me 'bout it all the time. When I was 'bout… Oh shit, gotta be around sixteen, I think… I told him why. Told him how when I'd tried goin' at it with Cindy Mayers from the trailer park… How she'd seen my back, an' my chest, an' left, a pitiful look in her eyes as she slunk away.

He laughed at me. Jus' like he always fuckin' laughed at me. Told me to man up. That just 'cause one dumb bitch turns you down, don't mean you don't go chasin' after another. Laughed 'cause I managed to find the one girl in our backwater town who didn't think scars were manly.

A couple weeks after I told him though, I heard that Cindy Mayers house got broken in to. That somebody had went through and spray-painted 'whore' and 'bitch' all over her room, 'long with a few other choice insults.

That was the thing about Merle. He was more than willin' to beat me into the ground, either with his jack-hammer sized fists, or the stupid shit he says. But don't nobody else do it. Hell, it even got to a point where he started beating on our old man for hittin' me. Merle still beat me bloody whenever he damn well pleased, but 'bout the time I was fifteen, dad had stopped doing much more than swatting me when Merle was home in between his juvie stints.

_Darlena_. God I _hated_ that fuckin' name. Drove me absolutely fuckin' insane. Especially seeing as how our old man used to talk about me being too pretty to be a Dixon. To pretty to be a _boy_. Used to talk about sellin' my ass for drugs or booze. 'Spose Merle's the only reason why he didn't carry through with it.

Guess I should be thankful to the miserable asshole for that at the very least. My dad used to carve me up like a Christmas turkey right up until I was fourteen, and got too big for him to hold down easily, but Merle… Merle only ever whooped on me. He never cut me up, never locked me in the basement, or the closet for a week at a time. Never starved me, never made me eat my own shit, never felt me up.

Even with his hair-trigger temper, I was always safer with Merle. I remember when Merle used to come at me with those big ass fists of his… As he'd pound the hell outta me, I remember bein' thankful. Bein' grateful. 'Cause I knew it was all gonna be over when he was done. That he'd get tired, and walk away. That he'd leave me there, alone in my pain, and wander off to do Lord knows what. Not that I much cared, as long as he left after he was done.

Shit. He's right. I _am_ a pussy. How long I been lyin' here in the damn mud? I got a fuckin' _arrow_ stickin' outta me, and I'm layin' here rememberin' how my old man used to torment me.

_You __his__ bitch now?_

I ain't nobody's bitch. And I can almost feel Merle laughin' at me again. Alright, so maybe I used to be my old man's bitch. Maybe I let Merle push me around more than I should. But I ain't nobody's bitch now. Back at the camp… They respect me. They _need_ me.

What he's sayin' 'bout everybody back at the camp… It ain't true. Yeah, I might not be anybody's best friend, but it's a damn sight better than what I had. I know they 'preciate what I do. The fresh meat I bring back. The trackin' I do. The fightin'. Hell, I think some of 'em even beginnin' to like me.

Shit, I ain't got time for this now. I'm fucked up, I know I am. I can feel the blood leakin' out 'round the arrow, feel the cold sinkin' into my clothes from the mud, feel the blood drippin' down my forehead.

_C'mon, get up on your feet 'fore I have ta kick yer teeth in._

I know he'll do it. Hell, he's done it before. Lost two of my back teeth one time from one of his fists. _I gotta get up._

* * *

Well shit. Thank God for adrenaline. Pussy huh? I'll show him pussy. Hell, I jus' killed two walkers, one with an arrow stickin' outta me, and the other one usin' the arrow I pulled outta me. Bet Merle never wouldda been able to pull an arrow outta his self to…

Oh wait. I guess if he can saw off his own hand… Fuck.

_Fuck_. Stupid asshole's always gotta have one up on me. Jus' once in my damn life I'd like to show him up. Do him one better.

Least I got that squirrel. Don't know how that sum bitch survived the fall with me, but thank Christ it did. Gonna have to eat it raw. Ain't got time or energy to build a damn fire.

Well… I've had worse meals.

* * *

Keep climbin'. I been up steeper inclines. This ain't so bad. Hell, half the cliffs back home make this one look like a bump on a log. Granted, I ain't never climbed those hills with a hole in my side, and blood drippin' in my eyes, but still. _Feed the birds_, my ass. Merle could never haul _his_ fat ass up this hill. Same way he couldn't ever track or hunt as good as I can. That man loves to _eat_. An' all that time in prison, he built up those big muscles. You know, the ones that ain't good for nothin' but show. I got _real_ muscles. The kind that actually get you somewhere. Like up this goddamned cliff.

_C'mon, Darlena._

Here I am tryin' to concentrate, and the stupid shit can't let up. Gotta keep up with the Darlena, and the pussy, and the fuckin' guilt trips. Hell, I was better off when the asshole was missin'. Startin' to realize how much I miss the sound of fuckin' silence.

Swear to God, real or not, I'm gonna kick his ass when I get to the top. An' fuck him, I'm _gettin'_ to the damn top. I gotta get Sophia's doll back to the group. Help us limit the search area.

Hell, I gotta get to the top so I can _find_ Sophia. Ain't none of the others gonna be able to.

Jus' a few more feet. That's it. Few more feet an' then…

All the way back to the damn camp site.

Will this day never fuckin' end?


End file.
